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Do you want the potion? I’ve decided on my payment…
My spine snapped straight. Well, well. Speak of the devil. Tavish lived. And he wasn’t worried Callen would discover his messages—or maybe the wolf wanted him to.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Bruce?” the woman asked, concerned.
“Please excuse me,” I said, already on my feet and striding from the room.
I holed up in the royal bedchamber, where no prying eyes dared venture. Trembling, I typed:We’re done. Don’t contact me again.
Mr. T: Tsk, tsk. Hear my offer at least. Renounce Callen’s claim on you within the week, and I’ll sneak you out of the castle, fly you first class to America, and force Isobel to drink the potion.
Understanding dawned. The wolf sought Callen’s humiliation and misery, now that the berserker king had let go of the past. That Tavish knew about the mark proved there was a mole in this household.
Perhaps the shifter even hoped my post-mark renunciationwould inspire a rage in my husband that I couldn’t calm, so I’d die like Sorcha. Only this time, Callen would be the culprit and drown in guilt.
Tavish texted me a picture. When I enlarged it, I gulped. A small clear vial with something glittery inside. The potion?
Mr. T: The choice is yours. Or are you enjoying being Mrs. Bruce a little too much?
Yes! And it was time I did something about it.
Urgency plagued me as I dialed Isobel again. Still no answer. Of course. I left her a message. “Call me back. This is life and death.” For good measure, I added, “By the way, this might be about Thora.” It wasn’t, but it could be. I didn’t dare say more in a recording. But I needed to speak with my soul-switching accomplice about Tavish.
Why had the shifter aided Isobel at all, if his goal was to hurt Callen? Why hadn’t Tavish harmed her through me after the switch? For that matter, why hadn’t he harmed either of us while he’d had the chance? Something wasn’t adding up.
I needed a new plan. One that required strength and courage. Because…
I must speak with Callen and confess all, despite the risk. Isobel had run from him, but I wouldn’t. I’d be a fool to side with his enemy. I should take the necessary steps to remove my future from Tavish’s hands and put it into Callen’s. How could I do anything less? I was drawn to him, and he was drawn to me. I adored the way he’d softened for me. How he looked at me. Kissed me. The husky timbre of his voice. His intensity. Even his ferocity. All directed at Elle, not Isobel. When we weren’t together, I longed to be. Whenweweretogether, I only wanted to be closer. There must be a way to make things work. Perhaps he even suspected what had happened. I’d certainly dropped enough clues.
Honestly, when marching into a battle against Isobel, I’d rather have Callen at my side than the wolf.
I visited his office, but he wasn’t there. On a new hunt, I went. Directions from those who’d spotted him led me to a series of room I’d missed during my tour. Ornate instruments adorned the walls of the first, including lutes, harps, and violins. Discarded sheet music lay on the floor, leading to a hand carved music stand.
My jaw dropped when I stepped through a second door, seeing at least a hundred copies of Isobel’s reflection. A gallery of mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls. Their surfaces reflected and refracted the sunlight pouring in through the four large windows.
A third door led to another new area where the scent of aged parchment and ink filled my nose. Framed maps decorated the space, each meticulously hand drawn. Diagrams and charts covered a sturdy wooden table. Another table provided an interactive touch-sensitive surface, complete with holographic displays. A blend of old with new.
In centuries past, Callen and his commanders must have planned attacks in the room. Now, the king muttered under his breath, pacing along a large alcove covered with a floor to ceiling atlas dotted with symbols and scribbles in a language I didn’t recognize. Prince Jamie stood off to the side, staring down at a piece of aged parchment.
“Callen,” I called, and he immediately swung his gaze in my direction.
He went quiet, wave after wave of adrenaline-fueled intensity flowing from him. Jamie looked my way next, his eyesnarrowing.
“He survived,” Callen intoned. “Tavish survived, and I can’t let him get to you.”
Did Callen verge on a transformation? Concern sparked. In this condition, he would definitely rage if I confessed all. This wasn’t the time.
I’d wait one more day. Right now, he required tending. Which I would see to before it became too late.
I extended my hand toward him. “Come here, please.”
“He must be found,” he growled, remaining in place. He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“And he will be found. But first I need your help.”
That did it. Finally Callen acquiesced, reaching for my hand. “Give us a moment,” he told the other man.
“He’ll summon you when we’re done,” I said. I required more than a moment.
